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ON HIS WAY THROUGH THE WORLD 395
of eyes, which lighted up with glad welcome when they beheld
him. Two young cheeks mantled with a sweet blush. These
were Charlotte's cheeks: and hard by them were mamma's, of
a very different colour. But Mrs. General Baynes had a knowing
turban on, and a set of garnets round her old neck, like gooseberries
set in gold.
They admired the rooms: they heard the names of the great
folks who arrived, and beheld many famous personages. They
made their curtseys to the ambassadress. Confusion ! With a
great rip, the thumb of one of those cheap gloves of Philip's parts
company from the rest of the glove, and he is obliged to wear it
crumpled up in his hand : a dreadful mishap—for he is going to
dance with Charlotte, and he will have to give his hand to the
vis-a-vis.
Who comes up smiling, with a low neck, with waving curls
and whiskers, pretty little hands exquisitely gloved, and tiny feet ?
'Tis Hely Walsingham, lightest in the dance. Most affably does
Mrs. General Baynes greet the young fellow. Very brightly and
happily do Charlotte's eyes glance towards her favourite partner.
It is certain that poor Phil can't hope at all to dance like Hely.
" And see what nice neat feet and hands he has got," says Mrs.
Baynes. " Comme il est bien ganté ! A gentleman ought to be
always well gloved."
" Why did you send me to the twenty-nine-sous shop ?" says
poor Phil, looking at his tattered hand-shoes and red obtrusive
thumb.
" Oh, you !"—(here Mrs. Baynes shrugs her yellow old
shoulders). " Your hands would burst through any gloves ! How
do you do, Mr. Hely ? Is your mamma here ? Of course she is !
What a delightful party she gave us ! The dear ambassadress looks
quite unwell—most pleasing manners, I am sure; Lord Estridge,
what a perfect gentleman ! "
The Bayneses were just come. For what dance was Miss
Baynes disengaged ? " As many as ever you like! " cries Charlotte,
who, in fact, called Hely her little dancing-master, and never thought
of him except as a partner. " Oh, too much happiness ! Oh, that
this could last for ever !" sighed Hely, after a waltz, polka, mazurka,
I know not what, and fixing on Charlotte the full blaze of his
beauteous blue eyes. " For ever ?" cries Charlotte, laughing. " I'm
very fond of dancing, indeed ; and you dance beautifully ; but I
don't know that I should like to dance for ever." Ere the words
are over, he is whirling her round the room again. His little feet
fly with surprising agility. His hair floats behind him. He
scatters odours as he spins. The handkerchief with which he fans